Immortal: Legends of the Tiberium War
by wickedmetalviking1990
Summary: Fifty years of the Tiberium Wars seen through the eyes of those who fought, died and suffered the most in the ongoing struggle between GDI and the Brotherhood of Nod. Tiberium universe no CnC4 , rated M
1. Brotherhood

**(AN: I grew up on the _Command and Conquer_ series, beginning with _Tiberian Sun_ and _Red Alert 1_, so I consider myself well-entrenched in the _CnC_ universe. However, the world of _Tiberian Dawn_ has always fascinated me, since it is the hardest of the games [I've only just won the Allies campaign of _RA1_], and yet there is so much interesting lore to be learned therein.)  
**

**(Which brings us here. A while ago, I had the idea for this story and began mental work on it with each installment of the _Tiberium_ series, though I stopped once _CnC__IV_ came out [that just stream-lined the story far too much]. I've also gone back to the world of _Tiberian Dawn_ to tell the back-story of our character. This is his story, told from beginning to end.)  
**

* * *

**Brotherhood**

_Yugoslavia: 1996_

Pyotr was one of the many young men packed almost inhumanely into the black APC. They did not know where they were going, only that what they were doing made sense when they signed up for it. The man in black and red who had stood in the streets of Zagreb and preached of Kane and his vision had moved them with his words. They each, to a man and woman, left their lives behind in the bombed-out streets of Zagreb and joined this new movement the man said would change history and the world.

Hours passed and suddenly the APC came to a lurching halt. The man in black and red walked toward the door and opened it, spilling light upon them and himself. He was clad in black and red kevlar, with a black cloak tied to his shoulders with a chain: upon the cloth was a red triangle with flattened points and the tail of a scorpion within the symbol.

"Out," he said to those in the APC. "Make your way down and gather in a group around the APC."

One by one, moving like cattle into narrow stalls, Pyotr and the others made their way out of the APC and formed a loose group just out front of the mouth of the armored vehicle. The cloaked man stood up on the roof of the APC and picked up a bull-horn, into which he spoke to them all.

"Welcome to Outpost Scorpion," the man began. "My name is Urim, and I will be your Confessor. You have been brought here because you have chosen to join the Brotherhood of Nod. A commitment to the Brotherhood is life-long and cannot be revoked or recanted. Nevertheless, you have been brought here because your minds are open to the vision of Kane: a future where all of the problems of our world are ended by the gift of Tiberium. Our purpose is to bring this vision to life with the tools that the mind of our great visionary have brought to life: the technology of peace.

"You leave who you were behind you when you passed through these gates," Urim continued. "Look to the man or woman standing beside you: they are your brothers. You will live and die at their side, knowing that you will live on through your brothers and sisters, and, by living on through them, inherit the blessing of Divination that Kane shall bestow to _all_ loyal followers of Nod! Repeat after me: Brotherhood! Unity! Peace!"

One by one, the people chanted this mantra over and over, and Pyotr along with them. For him, this was his one chance. Life in Zagreb had been hell, and the promise of a better tomorrow was more than enough for him to join this new coalition, which seemed to have all the answers in a cruel, ever-changing world.

The Brotherhood of Nod.

* * *

**(AN: I know that might not be much to go on, but I will definitely go into greater detail in the next chapter. In fact, I plan on going into more detail, both on the story and the _Tiberium_ universe in the next chapter.)**


	2. The Prophet

**(AN: Here is the new chapter, uploaded a.s.a.p. Hope you enjoy it)  
**

* * *

**The Prophet**

_Yugoslavia: 1996_

Pyotr soon came to enjoy, more or less, life at Outpost Scorpion. On the streets of Zagreb, life hanged in constant doubt for those as poor as he was, and he went for days, weeks even, without food or water. Now he practically lived at the Hand of Nod, a building where the other soldiers of the Brotherhood ate, slept and were given their duties. All he had left of his old life was his name welded onto a pair of dog-tags that hung about his neck: _Pyotr Tankian_.

His day consisted of a usual routine: up at 0500 hours, ten minutes of break-fast, then the usual training exercise. Though training was strict, his instructors emphasized the need of unity and brotherhood, the two main precepts of the motto of the Brotherhood, on the field of battle. They maintained that their commanders and squad-members were their brothers and deserved protection just the same. Phrases spoken by the mysterious Kane were mentioned at each training exercise, usually to drive a point home that the instructor was making.

The rest of the day was spent in training, with only one ten-minute break in the middle of the day for lunch. Supper heralded the end of the training session, and after supper, there was usually a period of thirty minutes were the green recruits had precious time to themselves, called by their superiors 'a period of brotherhood'. Here connections were made, even encouraged by their superiors, to strengthen their bonds of unity. After the thirty minutes were up, lights out and everyone in bed.

One day out of seven, for typical holidays were not recognized or kept, the training of the day was cut in half. After lunch, they would gather in the 'Council Room' of the Hand of Nod: a large, auditorium-like room that looked like a combination of a church and a computer laboratory. Here they would watch live feeds from the Brotherhood's Virtual Communications channel, or Virt-Com, as it was abbreviated. Most of these feeds were speeches made by generals and favored leaders of the Brotherhood of Nod, who spoke on the need of adherence to the ideals of the Brotherhood and the utmost devotion in their leader, Kane.

Kane. It seemed that no matter where Pyotr went, he always heard something about Kane. There were no paintings in barracks, only the emblem of the Brotherhood of Nod plastered everywhere: a red triangle with the scorpion's tail within. There were some flags scattered about the base that had more than just the emblem of Nod upon them. Some had the blackened silhouette of a man with a bald head super-imposed either near or upon the emblem of Nod. Pyotr never asked who it was, for his fellow recruits didn't know and his officers did not respond when he asked the question.

* * *

One weekend, for so the one day out of seven was referred to by the troops, Pyotr and the other recruits were brought into the Council of Room of the Hand of Nod. The lights went down and the projector began to display an image that was first the emblem of Nod on a black screen. The screen then parted, and the next projected image was that of a man, wearing black streaked with small lines of red: he was bald and hair-less, save for a mustache and short beard upon his face.

"Good afternoon, my children," the man said. When he spoke, his voice was calm and calculated, yet stirring in their ears. "I am Kane, I am the leader of the Brotherhood. I am sure you have many questions, about our motives and our goals. Unlike the super-power elite of the UN, I will not withhold secrets from you.

"In 1955, the Soviet Union collapsed at the end of the Great World War. The fighting that occurred afterward left many nations devastated, weak, impoverished, and what did the United Nations do to aid them? Nothing. The World Trade Center in Vienna was established, as a front, to negotiate grain trade with developing nations, but it's true purpose was to push 'third world countries' deeper into poverty, into _slavery_, while the super-power elite of the United Nations grew fat on their ill-gotten gains.

"Our enemies have laid claim that the Brotherhood of Nod are a terrorist group, and have blamed us for their own mistakes and misdeeds. But what they do not see is that while the United Nations and its so-called Global _Defense_ Initiative hunt down the Brotherhood and its supporters, we are forging a new future!"

Gasps and quiet exclamations were heard from those gathered here at this revelation. The image of Kane pressed a button on an off-screen keyboard, and a small rectangular image appeared, with a small earth-colored pod sprouting green crystals at the top of a ground diorama.

"Tiberium," Kane said. "That is the reason why we fight. The United Nations and the mainstream scientific community see this, at best, an enigma and at worst, a potential ecological threat: I see the future. I have complete control over Tiberium, and am able to unlock its full potential, ending all energy crises and world poverty. With this, Nod shall usher in a new world, and you, my children, are blessed to be at the forefront of a new world order! Peace through Power!"

With that, the projector feed ended. Those who left were chatting among themselves all the way back to their barracks. Pyotr, on the other hand, was paying direct attention to the words of their leader, this Kane. He knew that there could be no going back to his life in Zagreb: there was no way out of that life save for a quick death by the street gangs or a long, drawn-out, painful death, suffering by thirst and starvation. With the Brotherhood of Nod, there was hope, there was a chance to live, to survive, to have a better future.

It was, logically, his only option.

* * *

**(AN: For those who might not be paying attention, here is the run-down. _Red Alert 1_'s timeline happens, with the pre-_RA3_ timeline mentioned as the 'fighting that occurred afterward', neither confirming nor denying the existence of _Red Alert 2_ in this story. The outcome, of course, is that the nations of Eastern Europe, which were under the control of the Reds even in _RA1_, were horribly debilitated following the USSR's downfall. This explains the need for the Grain Trade Center in Vienna [_Tiberian Dawn_ timeline]. Furthermore, as _WWII_ technically never took place, the nations of Croatia, Bosnia, Czech Republic and Slovakia and others technically don't exist. Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina are still part of Yugoslavia, [where both Zagreb and Sarajevo are located], and Czechoslovakia still exists. I'll try to make mention of such throughout the story, though the conflict in the 1st act will focus mostly in Eastern Europe.)  
**

**(What do you think about our character? Should I go into more depth with him so early on, or is this enough as it is?)  
**


	3. Reassigned

**(AN: Welcome back to a new chapter of this story!)  
**

**(As far as any heads up goes, there are portions that aren't in English. I'm not sure if Yugoslavia had its own language, but, since, at least in this universe, there was no WWII and the Cold War didn't happen, Yugoslavia didn't separate and the people might have spoken what we call "Serbian".)  
**

* * *

**Reassigned**

_Yugoslavia: 1998_

Brother Pyotr Tankian, SN: 019-23-0003. The life he had before was gone, now he was a soldier of peace, ready to give his life for the Brotherhood of Nod. Any one of the Brotherhood considered themselves highly honored to be a part of this great movement, but there were some who were more "blessed" than the others.

Thus it was with Pyotr. Through the years he spent as a sentry at Outpost Scorpion, news slowly leaked via Virt-Com of the Brotherhood's activities. Shots of dark-skinned Africans with weapons raised high, cheering as they marched through the streets of their home cities, waving the red flag with the scorpion's tail, the banner of the Brotherhood, filled the video feed, while news of great victory against the war-mongers of the West was broadcast over the air-waves. The Brotherhood was triumphant, but the best was just to come.

0600 hours, just before dawn. Pyotr and his squad were called to attention at the Hand. As they stood erect and alert, a Nod VIP stood before them, flanked by guards in heavy Kevlar and black helmets, with red visors. They halted, and the VIP stopped, turning to the squad. He was clad in black, with the emblem of Nod on a patch on his arm: he was rather old, with graying hair and a dangerous-looking scar across his face. When he spoke, it was with an upper-class, South African accent.

"Rejoice, brothers and sisters," he said. "I am here to bring you the good news. Last night, at 2200 hours, our technicians in Cairo have verified the rumors: our brothers and sisters in the Nod Construction Guild have completed the first Temple of Nod.

"This strikes a potent blow for the Brotherhood. I have received orders from the Inner Circle, those honored enough to stand in the presence of the Prophet and to hear his word directly in their ears, that a second, more powerful, Temple of Nod will be built here, on European soil. Furthermore, I am proud to announce that this base will become part of the Prophet's head-quarters for his strike against the fascist rulers of the West. You have been chosen by the Prophet to protect the site deemed worthy of his holy temple: Sarajevo."

This was indeed a big deal. Every one of the Brotherhood of Nod worshiped Kane, and the thought that the Prophet would have his head-quarters here, among the European Brotherhood...

"One vision, one purpose!" the VIP shouted, saluting the troops with his right forearm extended, hand out.

* * *

As much of an honor this was toted to be, the duty of guarding the construction sight was nothing short of a hell of boredom. Over the next several days, Pytor and his squad performed endless patrols around a massive construction sight. The hourly flow of the brothers and sisters of the NCG, in their large cargo trucks and the mammoth Mobile Construction Vehicles, was at first a welcome distraction, but eventually became annoying.

"How do they work, you wonder?" Pyotr asked Dmitri, his squad-brother.

"_šta_?"

"The MCVs," Pyotr returned.

"Beats me," Dmitri shrugged. "I've heard it uses machines and computers to make building center."

Pyotr nodded, then turned his attention back to his watch.

The boredom seemed to increase with each passing day. The biggest thing that happened, so far, was watching the Mobile Construction Vehicle deploy into a structure nicknamed by the NCG the "Construction Yard". That was their base of operations, and their technicians and engineers always went back there for whatever they needed as they started preparing the area for construction.

Meanwhile, the group Pyotr belonged to got very little action. After almost three weeks of watching the NCG busy like ants, they were almost expecting someone to attack, just so they'd have a relief from the sheer boredom. They were still living in the cramped guard shack that stood at the walled entrance of the base, living off a last-generation power generator - the kind that roared so loudly they could not possibly get to sleep at night.

One night, Pyotr and Dmitri were playing cards with their squad-members Sascha and Milla. Sascha was impossibly large, with shoulders so broad he could barely fit through most doors without going through sideways. He looked like an Olympic body-builder, and, thankfully, his powerful muscles were on their side. Milla was the only woman in their squad, though not the only one any of them had seen in the Brotherhood, though definitely the first Russian Pyotr had met.

"_Prokleti!_" exclaimed Dmitri towards Milla. "You beat me again!"

"You'll get the hang of it," she replied.

"Or loose all my credits in the process," Dmitri returned.

"Who knows?" Pyotr interjected. "Those NCG _budale_ are taking forever with the building, you might just be able to learn enough to come out on top!"

"I always come out on top, my friend!" Dmitri replied with a cheeky grin.

Sascha roared with laughter, Milla gave Dmitri a scathing look of condescension, while Pyotr took the cards and started to reshuffle the deck.

"When you think they done?" Sascha replied. He didn't speak the _lingua franca_ of the area, that which Dmitri and Pyotr spoke, so he usually found himself being taken for dim-witted by reason of his broken speech. They knew differently, though.

"The NCG?" Dmitri replied, then laughed. "Y2K will be here, and they'll still be toiling away!" This elicited some laughter from the others, but Sascha was still not satisfied.

"Why can't they build Hand of Nod for us?" he asked. "I'm sick of living on rations with that damn generator!"

"Tell me, _prijatelj_," Pyotr said to Milla, whose grasp of the local Serbian dialect was stronger than Sascha's. "Why do we need rations?"

"They haven't gotten the T-refinery built yet," she returned. "I used to run guard duty in a refinery in Lybia. I picked up a few things about how that green shit works."

"Well, we have time," Pyotr returned. "Why don't you tell us?"

"_Da!_" exclaimed Dmitri. "Tell us your brave war-stories from the foul depths of the green factories."

"Always with the jokes!" she scoffed.

"Always, my friend," Dmitri smiled. "No, go ahead. Tell us."

"Yes, do go on." Sascha added.

"Very well," she rolled her eyes. "Apparently, those T-refineries don't just extract valuable minerals from the green, they also work as...safe-houses. They protect the economy of the Brotherhood."

"What do you mean?" Dmitri asked.

"Well, you remember those video tapes they showed us on our first day of basic training?" she asked. "Green has valuable minerals it leaches from ground like sponge, they keep in refineries like safe. Issue these out for cashless use." She extracted from her back pocket a tiny plastic card, about half the size of a standard credit card. It was black, with a green symbol on both sides, featuring a bar-code and ID number at the bottom and a tiny Nod emblem at the top.

"You know how this works, _da_?" she said, then quickly flipping it back into her back pocket.

"_Da_," Pyotr nodded. "You get to draw from the Brotherhood communal stores. Mostly just for food and supplies."

"You get them reactivated at the next T-refinery if you're getting transferred," she said. "Once the NCG gets this one up, we'll all get ours reactivated and maybe leave this shit-hole."

"But don't they need to harvest the green first?" Sascha asked.

"I haven't seen any in our immediate area," Pyotr stated.

"Good riddance," Milla sighed. "I've been around those refining tanks so much, I'm surprised I'm not glowing green." At this, Dmitri laughed again. Sascha struck him on the shoulder.

"That's not very nice," he returned.

"_Žao mi je,_" Dmitri gasped. "I couldn't resist."

"But, seriously," Pyotr said to Milla on the side, while Sascha and Dmitri were rambling against each other in their own respective languages. "I've never seen that green stuff before. What happens if you...well..."

"Get too close to it?" she returned. "Well, I'm not sure. I'm no scientists, but the techs at all the refineries I was stationed at were nothing but cautious about the green. We weren't allowed to come within ten feet of the tanks, and we had to wear gas masks all the time, in case of a breach."

"Did anyone ever get it on them?"

"Net," she replied. "Thankfully not, we were all warned not to come in contact with it, either in the refinery or out in the field. Never anything major, just the usual: don't step on the green crystals."

Pyotr nodded, though his curiosity on the subject was not sated. In fact, it was heightened with fearful worry on the nature of this green substance. To the Prophet, the commanders and confessors of Nod, as well as the civilian news media, it was Tiberium, though most people found their own short-hand variations of the four-syllable word for the substance that grew in green crystals in various tropical and temperate zones.

But exactly why was it so dangerous that even the technicians who handled it did so with fear and extreme caution?

* * *

More and more boring days passed at the facility outside Sarajevo. The NCG seemed to be taking their time with the main structure, which Pyotr and the others assumed was the "Temple of Nod", and were now branching out with various other base essentials. A primary power plant was constructed shortly, with a secondary one added in case of power shortages or crashes. There was no Hand of Nod built yet, though an airstrip was put in to serve as a drop-off point for more supplies and vehicles.

The airstrip also saw the arrival of more security troops. Some of them joined Pyotr's company, though most kept to themselves in a command tent near the super-structure at the center of the base, backed up against a high cliff wall. They never saw these ones, and they didn't even bother to make themselves known to anyone: they were, for all intents and purposes, invisible except when they wished not to be.

One morning, the guards were awoken by sirens wailing on the airstrip. With the speed drilled into them by the heavy training they endured, they got dressed, picked up their auto-rifles and left the guard shack, expecting to see a column of enemy soldiers, or at least a few heavy tanks. Instead, they saw the chain-link fence barrier and gate that had been the main ground entrance into the base gone, replaced by a thick concrete wall and armored steel gate, with the emblem of Nod upon it. Automatic gun turrets were placed on the outside of the wall, and they saw one of the NCG technicians waving them onward, gesturing towards the airstrip.

They made their way down the hill and across to the airstrip, where everyone in the base was scrambling to attention. Pyotr got his first glimpse of the secretive guards: they were clad in Kevlar armor, similar to the VIP who had reassigned him and his squad, outlined in places with red and with red bands on their arms, emblazoned with the Nod emblem in black. Their faces were covered with helmets with red visors, giving off an inhuman quality to their quiet, unseeing vigil. Pyotr got a shiver as he looked in their direction.

Several minutes later, they began to see the object of their concern. The roar of jet engines whining as they came to a halt got their attention. In the sky above, a black Concorde, the kind of aircraft reserved only for presidents, senators and those who could afford such luxury, was coming down to land. As it came closer, Pyotr saw the tips of its wings were turned upward, and had been painted red.

The plane finally came to a smooth landing, and everyone rushed to the door, near the nose of the plane. They formed two lines that formed a tunnel for whoever would be getting off the aircraft. Of course, the faceless, black-clad guards were at the front of the line, nearest to the door of the aircraft. Without further ado, the doors were opened, a technician wheeled up a step-ladder, and as the new-comer was climbing down the steps, one and all of those lined up rose their right hands forward, palm extended, then balled their right hand into a fist and brought it over the left side of their chest.

"Peace through power!" they exclaimed with one voice, holding the pose.

Pyotr could barely breathe as he saw who the VIP who stepped off the plane was. He was a little taller than average, clad in a long, black jacket, lined with red on the sleeves, collar and hem. His bald head and neatly cropped beard and goatee were instantly recognizable, and Pyotr knew exactly in whose presence he now found himself. The man who was walking among them now was the one he had seen in the video all those years ago, the one they called the Prophet.

Kane.

* * *

**(AN: Most of the previous chapters have been very low on the dialogue, so I came up with this one. It's my way of describing just exactly how the Tiberium refineries work as cash centers. And how about those MCV's? I've always thought nano-tech, but that would probably be out of the question in the late-90s. [lol, speaking of which, did you recognize some of those references to the late-90s, like video tapes and Y2K?])**

**(Kane and Tiberium are, of course, very important to this story, as you will soon see.)  
**


	4. Sarajevo

**(AN: Here is the turning point of our story.)  
**

**(You know, reviews are always helpful. I do need to know how this character is working, if I should extrapolate more on his motives and why you should give a damn about him. Therefore, do not hesitate to click the blue button at the bottom of the page and give us your thoughts and suggestions. [who knows? they might just make it into the story in one way or another])  
**

* * *

**Sarajevo**

_Outside Sarajevo, late 1999_

It was a good year for the Brotherhood. The battle against the Western nations was going quite well. By now, the frightened nations of the UN had publicly allowed their fascist war machine, nicknamed the "Global Defense Initiative", to be activated and 'sicked' on the supporters of the Brotherhood. However, all their attempts seemed to be in vain. Surgical strikes by zealous Nod freedom fighters, slandered as "death squads" by GDI's supporters, insured that the Global Defense Initiative's heavy weapons never made it to the field of battle. Through this 'tactical holy warfare', libeled 'acts of terrorism' by the Global Defense Initiative, or GDI, all of Africa and most of the Middle East was secured for the Brotherhood, while Eastern Europe was quickly falling under the red banner of the black scorpion.

Meanwhile, the news media was eating up the conflict. The Brotherhood insured that the civilian news media were telling the outcome of the battles as they were, not as their fascist leaders interpreted it. With a 'neutral' news media, support from civilian nations were shifting from GDI and the UN and toward the Brotherhood. Indeed, all portents pointed towards a total victory of Brotherhood forces against the GDI by no later than New Year 2000.

* * *

This sense of victory among the Brotherhood, however, did not mean that war was being taken any less seriously. Brotherhood reserve troops were being shipped out to the front-lines on a daily basis as the Global Defense Initiative were taking stands across the European theater of war.

Thus it was in Sarajevo. Pyotr and Dmitri were separated from their friends at Sarajevo's Temple grounds, nicknamed "Temple Prime", when they were being personally shipped out to assault a GDI base near the Yugo-Austrian border.

Early that morning the base alarms went off, and Pyotr feared they were under attack. Part of him was anxious, however, to hold his auto-rifle within his hands and gun down the fascist war pigs of GDI. The sixteen-year-old street urchin from Zagreb was now grown up, a nineteen-year-old zealot of the Brotherhood. In the face of every GDI soldier he saw the enemy, rich UN politicians who had kept Yugoslavia poor and stole his youth away from him. _They_ were the enemy, and he was a freedom fighter on the forefront of a revolution like no other. It filled him with pride and a sense of purpose as he threw on his armor and picked up his weapon. For four years, the Brotherhood had been his family. Now he was being called to defend them against their single, mortal enemy.

There was no choice in the matter.

Outside of the Hand of Nod, where the troops were housed, Pyotr and Dmitri were ordered into the Armored Personnel Carrier along with some other soldiers neither of them had seen before. Without another word, the door was shut and the APC took off out of the base.

Inside the hot, stuffy crew quarters, Pyotr looked about among those gathered. There were no signs of Sascha or Milla anywhere in his company.

"Sir," he spoke to the captain, called a Confessor in the ranks of the Brotherhood.

"Yes, brother?" he returned.

"Where are brothers Sascha and Milla? Why aren't they going out with the rest of the squad?"

"That is not for you to know," the Confessor returned.

Pyotr was surprised at this. From his personal experience, Nod was the bringer of light, showing the evils of the fascist West, the UN and the GDI, and illuminating and enriching those who joined the Brotherhood. Instead, he found himself up against a proverbial door locked and guarded by the Brotherhood.

"Probably never see them again," a voice muttered.

Pyotr looked across at the one who had spoken, a dark-skinned man from a squad he had never seen.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Oh, this happens all the time," the man replied. "Every so often, a brother or two disappears for no reason. Confessors tell us not to worry, say its 'faith restructuring' program, or some other bullshit like that. They're never seen again."

A strange thought came into Pyotr's mind, one he had never even given a second thought in the past several years. _What if I want to get out of the Brotherhood?_ Would they let him leave? What if they said no, would he have to endure the 'faith restructuring' programs? Then again, what if they said _yes_ and he was let back into the world? Where would he go, back to Zagreb? That was a non-option by any accounts: he couldn't go back to living an impoverished life in the middle of nowhere Yugoslavia, waking up in the wreckage of a bombed-out building, wondering where he was going to get his next meal or if he would even make it through to the next day.

_No_, he thought. _I can't go back to that._

He gulped down any fears or suspicions he might have had, and steeled himself for the task ahead. He would see his first real combat just as soon as those doors opened. His fingers tightened on the barrel of his weapon.

_Boom!_ Something deep exploded outside the steel walls of the APC. Just then, the doors flew open and the Confessor climbed out of the carrier, ordering the soldiers out.

"Rise up, children of Nod!" he cried out. "Defend the Brotherhood! Death to GDI!"

Pyotr found himself in the midst of hell. They were on a narrow road with a hill on the right hand and an incline on the left. From the top of the hill came the rattle of gun-fire, loud and piercing, exploding in his ears. Mortar shells rained down on their company, which struck the ground, kicking up the dust and rattling brains. It was a miracle he could even see, much less keep his shaking hands steady long enough to shoot at the ones shooting at them.

An explosion shook the ground not but ten feet away from where Pyotr was standing. The shock knocked him off his feet and sent him flying over the incline. In mere moments, his blood ran cold as he saw a field of green that lay waiting for him at the bottom of the incline. He blacked out and knew no more.

* * *

**(AN: Yep, you read it right.)**


	5. Operation Earth

**(AN: Now we jump ahead several decades to where the story _really_ gets going: _Tiberian Sun_.)  
**

* * *

**Operation Earth**

_Space: 2030_

Alysa Joanne Steele looked out the view-port of her ship's bridge. The Victoria was one of a fleet of GDI Orca Command craft in service, though not as renown as the Kodiak. Most of GDI's work was done from orbit, since life on Earth had become hazardous over the past thirty-five years since Tiberium, the green crystalline substance, came from space.

She had been born two years after the meteor hit, and grew up in the United States. Her only access to the Tiberium War in Europe had been the news media, which her parents watched fervently. Her earliest memories, in fact, were images of burning villages, terrorists in red and black, and growing fields of green from the television.

By the early 2000s, the condition of the world started to change. With Tiberium infecting many of the temperate zones of the world, the UN practically dissolved and many nations came under the full and total protection of the Global Defense Initiative. If you weren't enlisted or had a shit-load of money, the chances were you were left to your own devices in a world being infected by Tiberium.

Fortunately, Alysa was the former. She joined the GDI military, and between late 2020s and today, worked her way up to a command position. It wasn't easy, because what was left of the Brotherhood of Nod was too busy fighting itself to provide an active threat. But she didn't complain, it was better than nothing.

"Incoming transmission," the EVA unit on her command chair spoke.

"Onscreen," she ordered, as she took her seat. The screen flickered to life as the image of an old, war-scarred officer appeared.

"Colonel Parker," she straightened up. The stories about what Parker had done during the Tiberium War were legendary.

"In case you haven't been keeping up with the latest news," Parker began. "It's official that Kane is back from the dead."

"Repeat, sir."

"You heard me, Steele," he replied. "General Solomon's got Commander McNeil spear-heading the main assault against Nod. In the mean-time, I have a special task for you." His hand clicked a button off-screen, and several images appeared next to his.

"Mutants, sir?" she asked.

"Official GDI policy," Parker continued. "Is that they're classified as hostiles. I say to hell with official policy: these sons of b*tches have been through hell on a daily-basis because of Tiberium, they deserve a crack at the bastards who've put them in the shitter."

"As you say, sir," Steele nodded, though she had her reservations about working with 'Shiners', as they were often pejoratively called.

"Now, these mutants call themselves 'the Forgotten'," Parker said. "Intel on them is sketchy at best, but our best sources indicate a possible colony somewhere near the Israeli-Lebanese border. Offer them whatever aid they need, we need their assistance. I'll be able to clear you a few drop-ships, but remember: this assignment is strictly off the record. GDI Central Command won't be able to save your ass if you get into trouble, so don't. Parker out."

The screen vanished, replaced once more by the view of space, the world gleaming blue and green back up at her. It was always breath-taking, the view of the Earth from space. She could even see, like little lights on a Christmas tree, the spots where Tiberium infestation was especially dangerous. It seemed like she would be going back there.

* * *

As soon as her communique with Colonel Parker was finished, she roused her crew and told them they would be going planet-side at 0900. She told her helmsman, Manuel Cortez, a distant relative of the General in command of Southern Cross, to lay in a course for their designated target.

The border of Lebanon and Israel. In the years before the First War, conflict tore this portion of the Middle East into many warring factions. With the rise of the Brotherhood of Nod, this area became a hot-spot in a war whose main fronts were Africa and Europe. While the media paid attention to Nod movements in Africa and falsified reports of anti-civilian atrocities by GDI, the Brotherhood of Nod waged a very _real_ and dangerous cold war against the Nation of Israel, one of the few nations still unaffiliated with either factions.

Years had passed, and the end of the First War saw the dissolution of GDI presence in Egypt, and Israel was left to its own devices. As Tiberium infestation moved throughout the temperate and arid regions, Israel suffered without support from either sides, while the Brotherhood-controlled regions about them were ruled by petty rulers, claiming themselves to be the new leaders of Nod. This made the region extremely hostile, what with heavy Tiberium infestation and Nod activity.

The Victoria came to rest several miles outside of the city of Tyre. Captain Steele gathered a meeting with her command crew at the Command Center of the Victoria. All of them were pouring over a holographic tactical map of the region.

"It looks like hell," she began. "But, according to EVA, it's not the worst out there. The civilian government of Israel consider Shiner presence as hostile, so any mutants we might find will be on this side of the border."

"In Nod territory," FO Manuel Cortez stated.

"Exactly," she said. "I'm gonna have to leave someone here with the Victoria to make sure we can get out in time. I don't think I have to remind you all that this mission isn't officially sanctioned: if we get into trouble, we're on our own. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they replied one after the other.

"Okay," she said. "Cortez, you stay with the ship and keep her ready for take-off. Keep Comm channel 1 open for updates from me, understood?"

"Yes, sir," Cortez nodded, though he had secretly wished to join the expedition.

"Singh, Hunter, you're with me. Get your men ready." A dark-haired German and an Indian woman nodded and went off to get their squads together.

Minutes later, two squads were assembled at the landing bay of the Victoria. Two APCs were brought out, in which the troops piled in for their journey. Since they were not going in force, no mechs larger than Wolverines were in their squads. Once Cortez gave the "all clear", the loading ramp was lowered and two APCs and two Wolverines rolled and marched out of the bowels of the Victoria and into hostile territory.

* * *

"Falcon units, this is Falcon C-1. It's now 1400 hours, report in." Steele said from the first APC.

"Falcon C-2 checking in," a voice reported over the comm channel. "All systems go."

"Falcon W-1 here," Singh reported.

"Falcon W-2 checking in," Hunter's deep, Germanic accent responded. "Still no sign of Nod."

"Rodger that," Steele replied. "Keep us updated. Falcon C-1 out."

Several hours had passed since they left the Victoria, and still no sign of any activity, either mutant or Nod. This seemed like a wild goose chase: nobody knew where the Shiner bases were located, if they were even organized enough to _build_ bases. Although, disorganized mobs should never be underestimated. Over the last several decades, the Brotherhood of Nod had proven to be quite venomous for a headless scorpion.

"Be advised, Falcon C-1," Singh's voice spoke up on the comm-channel. "The road up ahead is very narrow. Looks like we can only go through one by one."

"Falcons C-2 and W-2, see if you can find a way around this," she ordered. "We'll meet you back on the other side."

"Aye aye, sir." the driver of the second APC stated.

"Will do." Hunter said.

Outside the steel hull of the APC, a Wolverine and the second APC took separate routes around the narrow path, hoping to emerge on the other side and offer assistance should the lead group fall into trouble. Narrow, hard-to-maneuver passes like this were ideal for traps, especially by the Brotherhood of Nod, which excelled in hit-and-run battle tactics.

Suddenly, the APC rocked, jostling the inhabitants about unceremoniously hither and yon.

"Contact!" Steele shouted. "Deploy the ramp! We've got company!"

The APC's ramp lowered down, and the squads charged out, guns at the ready. A hail of gun-fire peppered the side of the APC from the high cliff on their right. The soldiers took defensive positions on the APC's left, and prayed or hoped that their opponent would attack from the left side. APCs were not built from which troops could fire out at enemy attacks, nor did they have the gun-emplacements of the old APCs from the First Tiberium War.

Without warning, another hail of fire came from the right side. Three soldiers were shot down, while Steele turned half of them to cover their flank. It was suddenly appearing that they were being pinned down on all sides. Commander Steele saw little hope of escaping this situation.

Suddenly, there was another sound. Someone else was shooting. During her training, she had trained with GDI-class weapons and knew what to listen for in a NOD automatic rifle, the ones issued to their standard infantry. The sound that was issuing was nothing in the category of known weapons of the Brotherhood of Nod. Even more so, the sound of Nod weapons firing became scarce.

"Throw your weapons down, blunts!" a voice shouted from the top of the hill.

Steele rose from her cover, pistol in hand. She looked about and saw that the Nod troops were gone. Standing on the hill was a motley crew of armed men, their guns pointed down at the pinned GDI squad. Steele, however, saw that this militia were not GDI, or Nod, or even the militia of certain civilian groups which she had heard were on the rise in certain districts. These were clad in the clothes of vagabonds, some with long jackets like cloaks upon their backs. Many of them were tattooed, and all of them had strange growth somewhere upon their bodies.

Crystals of green Tiberium.

* * *

**(AN: Today is CnC's 17th birthday, so I decided to finish this chapter and update the story. Now all I gotta do is make enough 'story' for you, dear reader, to give a damn about our character[s])**


End file.
